


Melts In Your Mouth

by AppleCrumble1



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleCrumble1/pseuds/AppleCrumble1
Summary: The Inquisitor eats some chocolate. It has peculiar effects.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just smut with an attempt at story and relationship building.

The chocolates had been poisoned. That was the only explanation Max could come up with to explain his current state. It would not have been the first time since becoming Inquisitor he'd taken something meant to kill or incapacitate him. But previous reactions had been… different. Usually there was sickness, pain, numbness, or just a full body blackout. This was not any of those things.

Not in the slightest.

Max felt as though every nerve ending on his body had been set alight. It was agonising. Yet it was not an agony he’d ever experienced before in his life.

And it had come on so quickly. So suddenly and overwhelmingly, he’d almost fallen to his knees from the shock of it. Thankfully Max had been standing in front of his desk at the time. His hands slammed onto the surface to steady himself and he glanced over toward the half-eaten box of chocolates.

“You…!”

The accusation toward the box went unfinished as, whatever its effect, the poison seemed to explode into something even more potent. A noise unfamiliar to Max’s own ears slipped free and he bowed forward, torso leaning over and pressing into his desk. It took the cold touch of wood against his cheek to realise he was burning up. The night was bitterly cold and despite the room’s roaring fire, Max was dressed in many layers. He twisted and squirmed to try and wrench himself free of some of them. In doing so, he moved his hips in such a fashion that they brushed against the top of the desk.

“Aaahn!”

Max slapped a hand over his mouth in shock. With wide eyes, he glanced down.

He was hard.

His _cock_ was _hard_.

... _Why_ was his cock hard?!

Max shivered when a trail of heat coursed down his back and seemed to settle somewhere just below his tailbone. The sensation ebbed and flowed; suddenly strong, then suddenly faint. Like a wave. A _teasing_ wave. He groaned and bit down on his hand to try and muffle the sound. Max didn’t know what manner of poison he was dealing with, but chances were high that Leliana would.

The idea of appearing before her in a such a state was mortifying. But he had little choice. Being found dead like this was hardly much of an improvement.

It was with no small amount of effort that Max detached himself from the desk. He just needed to get as far as the main stairwell. From there he could shout down to one of Leliana’s runners and they would have her there in minutes. It was no problem. Easily done.

 _Not_ easily done, as it turned out.

Problem one came about when Max tried to walk. Evidently his legs were suddenly no better than jelly. Max took two stumbling steps forward before the floor soared up to meet him halfway. He landed hard on his hands and knees. And the knock of pain which in any other circumstance might serve as sufficient shock to jolt him back to his senses, this time only seemed to egg his body on.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head. Tremors shook his arms and legs. Too weak to lift, but not too weak to crawl. He could still crawl. Max was certainly not above crawling.

And so arose problem two. No doubt a combination of the freshly polished floorboards against the soft material of his breeches, as well as his own wavering coordination. He _almost_ made it as far as the first set of steps when he felt both legs start to slowly slip out from under him. And once it started, there was no stopping it.

Max soon found himself lying prone.

Between the liquid-like state of his limbs, the cool sensation of the floor against his body, and the hard surface against his cock, there was simply no way Max was getting back up.

“I’m going to die…” he whined, hips moving of their own volition to grind into the floor. “And my, _ahn_ , body doesn’t even care.”

The friction was good but nowhere near enough. Maybe if he _dealt_ with himself first, then he’d be coordinated enough to get back on his feet. Max twisted to lie flat on his back, hands fumbling with the knots of his breeches. He almost never did this. Many of his early childhood Chantry tutors had always preached chastity and condemned such base indulgences. Years past and he’d learned that their teachings were decidedly outdated, yet still the guilt gnawed at him every time.

Or at least it usually did.

This time the second he touched his cock, his entire body spasmed as if electrocuted. He just barely sealed one hand over his mouth in time to muffle the cry it ripped from him. With trembling fingers, Max gripped himself and almost wept at the feeling, oversensitive to the point of painful. In no more than two strokes, and the mere brush of his thumb over the slit, he was gone.

It was like an explosion went off within him. Muffled wails shook the walls of his room and his back arched clean off the floor.

Then everything went black.

Max was reasonably certain he’d passed out. When he opened his eyes to blink dumbly up at the ceiling, his hand and breeches were covered in partially dried cum and the fireplace had waned to a duller flame. He was still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, yet couldn’t bring himself to move. Throughout his body a sort of warm tingling sensation now buzzed in the wake of what had previously been debilitating heat. That and a _heavy_ fatigue.

He was, thankfully, no longer hard.

“What... was _that_?” Max whispered, throwing an arm across his face. He felt… okay-ish. If it had truly been poison, maybe it was just meant to cause some kind of temporary disorientation. Among _other_ effects. He turned his head to stare balefully over at the box of chocolates. Still looking innocent as ever. Delicious traitors. “I need... to take that to Leliana.”

He pushed himself up and grimaced, wiping his hand on the already ruined breeches.

“...After I change. And wash.” Max went to stand. His legs disagreed, wobbling ineffectively for a moment before slipping out from under him. “And... remember how to walk.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Iron Bull _did not_ fidget. He did not squirm. 

But fuck did Leliana have a way of looking at a person that left him feeling peeled open to his very marrow. The long walk up to the spymaster’s rookery had given Bull an unpleasant amount of time to concoct various logical and not-so-logical explanations as to why she wished to speak with him. Now that he stood before her, he knew not one of them were close to the truth. 

Leliana had a look that was penetrating, but with a shadow of something almost curious. Or perhaps even uncertain. Bull wasn’t sure if that was better or worse for him. 

“Should I expect a dagger in my neck come morning?” 

She tilted her head in a manner eerily reminiscent of one of her ravens. “If I genuinely wanted to have you killed Bull, I’d do better than a cutthroat.” 

“I should hope so,” he snorted. “What’s this about then?”

In lieu of providing a verbal response, Leliana reached beneath her desk and brought a box into view. Bull looked between it and her several times before risking a shrug. “Gonna need more than that, Red.”

“This box arrived in Skyhold yesterday morning. It contains luxury Orlesian white chocolates.” Her eyes remained fixed to Bull’s own with an unshakable focus. “The chocolates themselves are laced with a drug. One which my agents have confirmed is unobtainable outside of Par Vollen.”  

Oh, fffffuck. 

It was a conscious decision when Bull reached up to smack his forehead and curse aloud. Borne of genuine frustration certainly, but one he chose to allow happen. Hiding his reactions would do him no good in this instance. 

“Shiiiiit. Yeah. Okay. I get how that might _look_ bad, so let me start by saying this: I got the drug _before_ becoming Tal-Vashoth. There’s been no communication between me and the Ben-Hassrath since the dreadnought… Unless you count the assassins.” 

“And the drug is?”

“A fuckin’ _powerful_ aphrodisiac.” 

Leliana raised an eyebrow and Bull sighed. 

“About two months ago when we were in Val Royeaux I met a, whatcha call it, artisan? Said she made chocolates for nobles all the time with ‘special’ ingredients. I put in an order, gave her the powder, she said she’d send it on to Skyhold once it was ready.” He paused and grudgingly tagged on. “I was planning to surprise Dorian with it.”

“Hm. Well, you certainly surprised _someone_ with it.” The words were a quiet murmur, almost said to herself. But clearly she’d wanted Bull to hear them. And he felt his blood run cold the second he did.

“... _What_?”

“Is there an antidote?” Leliana asked, ignoring his question. 

“No. It just works through a person’s system.” Bull furrowed his brow. “ _Really_ slowly, depending on the dosage. And their own constitution.”  

“And how potent would one of these chocolates be for a human?”

“On its own? More than enough to leave ‘em horny for about an hour.” 

Leliana paused and for the first time Bull caught a sliver of worry in the spymaster’s eyes. She lifted the lid of the box. “And if they ate that many in one sitting?” 

Almost half the boxes contents were gone. Bull sucked in air through his teeth. 

“Fuck me.” He thought back on his past experiences with the drug. “Never experienced it myself, but saw a few back in Seheron take more than they should’ve. Didn’t do any permanent harm but they were… pretty much delirious for about a day or two. Probably would’ve been worse off without their kadan to help.” 

“And by “help” you mean...?”

“Fuck their brains out,” he bluntly stated. “It’s the fastest way for the drug to run its course.” 

“Of course it is.” Leliana snapped the box shut with a touch more force than necessary. The noise seemed to echo throughout the rookery as a beat of silence passed between them. Eventually Bull stepped forward and casually plucked the box from her desk. She levelled a sharp look at him but he merely shrugged. 

“Hey, they weren’t cheap. And the rest are still good.” Then, with some reluctance, he asked, “You gonna tell me who owes me about 200 royals worth of chocolate?”


End file.
